


Breathing Is Key

by NUL



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Widowmaker struck with The Feels TM, but doesn't know what it is yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NUL/pseuds/NUL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inhale. Exhale.</p><p>In her line of work, breathing is key.</p><p>---</p><p>Widowmaker finishes a mission and it doesn't give her the same satisfaction that it normally does. This probably has something to do with a certain Overwatch agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing Is Key

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Slight violence (but not too graphic) because, well, assassinations.

_Inhale. Exhale._

In her line of work, breathing is key.

 

***

 

A soldier steps into the open expanse meters away from the town, carefully surveying the area. _How foolish,_ she thinks.

His movements are slow enough that it was _too_ easy for the sniper to pick him off. She stays put, however, looking at his movements. Through her scope, she waits for the conversation between him and the person speaking to him through his earpiece. As soon as he puts his arm down and makes a move back to their camp, Widowmaker takes the shot, and satisfaction courses through her veins.

Her prey falls, and the ringing in her ears die down as quickly.

She reloads another bullet to be safe, and breathes again. _More_. She contemplates on whether or not she’ll move quickly, but today she was in a mood of reveling in the slow kills.

There will be another soldier who will haphazardly walk into her view, and she will eventually shoot them one by one until panic takes ahold of their camp. The trick was radio silence. She didn’t want backup from other camps—or even perhaps Overwatch—getting in the way of her otherwise smooth mission.

She blinks, recalling the picture of a commander. Greying hair, a uniform too small for his build, and prominent scars on his face—her mission. By nightfall, she muses, she will retreat into the darkness and set up camp in a nearby building. As she contemplates her next course of action, she sees blue flicker quickly around her scope.

Her legs shift and she sits quickly enough to look for the threat. _Impossible_. She couldn’t think of a way for _that woman_ to have tracked her down in one of her more covert missions. She was proven right, as a simple butterfly flutters in front of her, as if mocking her in her momentary alarm. Her hand swats it away and she is left alone.

Hand moving to the infrared vision headgear perched upon her head, she looks around and still no sign of unruly brown hair and light blue streaks in the air. She lifts it away from her eyes and stands straighter, brushing off the dust that padded her elbows and gloves from being perched at the window.

She packs up her things and swings to another building.

Feeling a sudden want to wrap things up quickly and return to base, she holds the assault rifle in her arms and dons the infrared vision once more.

 

 

***

 

After the man had tried to retaliate and failed, he begs at her feet to spare his life. “I have a family,” he reasons.

Her eye twitches and for a moment he is the picture of relief.

But she is Widowmaker and she shows no mercy. “Talon sends their regards, _imbécile_.”

His face immediately contorts into shock, anger, and defeat before his skull thuds soundly against the floor.

Widowmaker remembers the cracking of his voice clearly. She also remembers the sound of her finger against the trigger and his own gun firing towards his temple.

She has done this many times enough that she knows the proper distance of the projectile of the blood. She is no savage and would rather not opt to wear splatters of uneven crimson on her way back. The additional work of removing it from her clothing is also another thing she takes into consideration.

Looking around the office, she grabs a couple of files before packing them neatly by her side; some information Talon might find useful. She pauses and thinks about the location of the camp and the density of the people in this area, surmising that it will take a while before authorities find the work she had done. Her fingers turn the doorknob and she sees bodies across the hallways unconscious.

The place is a mess.

So much for her plans for reveling in her slow kills. _Perhaps another time,_ she decides. Although the kills of today had provided her with enough gratification, it somehow seemed lacking. She felt something that she could not put a finger on. It could have been the lack of challenge or simplicity of the task—she was unsure.

Shaking her head, she lifts up a window to disappear into the dead of night.

 

***

 

After being picked up and given a new assignment, she was dropped off at one of their safe houses at Watford, England. She was to accompany new recruits and give them cover a week from now. Currently, however, she was told to stay put.

She was getting antsy and felt no need for rest.

Grabbing her keys, she took off in a modest car and drove aimlessly throughout the neighborhood. It was early—too early, in fact—and little to no people were in the streets. It was still dark, and the road was barely lit by dim lampposts. She looked at buildings and imagined embedding her grappling hook to one edge or even setting up a place for sniping in that old, decrepit building. She continued strategizing and imagining scenarios while driving. Times like these brought her ease; when no warehouses were around for her to hone her marksmanship.

She simply drove more before acknowledging the map at the passenger’s seat. A word caught her eye and she came to a stop on the side of the road. _London_.

A certain Overwatch agent lived around that area, or so one of the most recent files she had read told her. After a few more bouts with the agent who identified as ‘ _Tracer_ ,’ Widowmaker decided upon herself to take time to research about her and perhaps find a weakness. Apparently, the very thing giving her power tethered her to the present as well. It was a thing called a ‘ _Chronal Accelerator’_ that a scientist named Winston had created for the agent.

Before she even finishes contemplating whether or not to follow the directions on the paper, her hands are already steering the car to the destination.

 

***

 

Through the window, she sees a silhouette of Tracer moving about her apartment. It is odd, seeing her just walking around. If it weren’t for her trademark spiky hair and the slight illumination in the chest area, she wouldn’t have thought it was her.

What was more peculiar was the fact that she was still awake at this hour. A cup in hand, Tracer moves the curtain away and raises the window. Her hair billows against the wind and she sighs while taking a breath of the fresh air.

She seems to be perturbed, clutching the mug tightly and harness strapped around the thin tank top covering her torso. The blue light reflects faintly across her features, accentuating the slight crease of her eyebrows and the pursing of her lips.

Widowmaker contemplates that even in the darkness, she is still alight. _Except she is troubled._ Tracer shifts, suddenly looking around and likely feeling the presence of someone watching.

She is still in the car and if it wasn’t turned off and if it weren’t for the heavy tint on the windows, Tracer would have known she was there. After a few more moments of investigating, the woman opts to finish her drink and return inside. The lights turned off and Widowmaker assumes that she has fallen asleep. Only then does she notice the tight grip of her hands on the steering wheel.

The drive back to the safe house is uneventful and sleep finds her immediately.

 

***

 

A week comes soon enough and she is left to babysit the new recruits. _Give cover to the new agents and not let them be total idiots in the mission_. It is menial and something two or three of the regular Talon agents could handle. Although this is Talon and she knows there may be a reason for doing so.

And as she fills the cartridge with rounds, _there it is_ , she thinks.

 

***

 

In her line of work, breathing is key.

But she is no ordinary sniper—she is a woman of confidence. Her scope accuracy is high, priding herself of having no nerves when she aims for her shot. But here she is, heartbeat thundering in her ears like it never has before. The younger woman has a way of doing it to her.

Her speed comes effortless—but Widowmaker would be damned if she truly admitted that she found Tracer as a challenge. Although her pace seems lacking today, having minute changes in her movements that Widowmaker noticed. Still, she zips through archways and into cover, effectively blocking the sniper’s view of her.

“Tsk.” Widowmaker reloads as the bullet she sent a second ago ricochets weakly against the wall, settling and sending a shot to one of the slower, bulkier targets. He stumbles back as it hits his shoulder and it is enough for Widowmaker to line up another shot towards the head. _Another_. This time, the shot is perfect and pierces through the man well enough.

She makes a move to adjust her line of sight towards the group she is supposed to guard before the gun tumbles out of her hands. She already knows who this is. _Of course._

“Did you miss me that much?” Widowmaker asks.

Tracer huffs and steps back, pistols ready at both hands. “I could say the same thing.”

She does not drop the façade and readies her grappling hook with one hand. By now, they would have already taken the goods and dropped it off to the airship. Perhaps she can indulge and distract the agent. “Are you insulting my abilities?”

She scoffs. “You know what I mean. You were there, weren’t you? That night.”

Widowmaker smirks, setting off the grappling hook and effectively winding with one of Tracer’s pistols in her hand. “If I recall correctly, it was _tôt le matin_ ,” she replies, aiming the gun to her chest. After seeing her confused expression, she sighed. “Early in the morning.”

She sees the other woman’s mouth form into an _‘o’_ in realization. Before Tracer could reply, she pauses and Widowmaker can faintly hear voices through her earpiece.

Widowmaker’s own earpiece crackles before receiving audio. _“Ma’am this is Delta speaking. Cargo has been secured. We are awaiting further orders.”_

A split second decision later, she fires the gun to the woman’s leg. Just as she had anticipated, she blinks away and reappears inches away before sending a fist to her face. She dodges it quickly and swipes her leg beneath hers—enough to send Tracer out of balance and onto the floor.

“ _Tu as foiré_ , but there will be more time for redemption later.” She sends a shot near the edge of her Chronal Accelerator, and it is enough to disarm Tracer but not fully send her out of this time’s existence. After another round of shots near her stomach and to her side serving more as a warning, she sends the pickup signal to the recruits.

Tracer groans in pain, although the sound is immediately drowned out by the noise from the Talon aircraft.

 _“À la prochaine,_ _ma chérie,_ ” Widowmaker pauses. “Try not to be so distracted next time.”

A grin reaches the other woman’s mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re concerned, _love_.”

She rolls her eyes and throws the gun to the side. Her grappling hook extends upwards and onto the vehicle. The noise from the aircraft resonates deeply in her ears and she blames it for the sudden steady thump in her chest. _Breathe_. As the vehicle retreats further and further away from that location, she keeps a steady eye on the agent and barely reads the words on Tracer’s lips.

_Count on it._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I finally made a tumblr connected to this account! My username is hugesap if ever you want to talk about stuff :))
> 
> If you noticed any grammatical errors (both in English and in French), please notify me :) As always, comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are always welcome. Thanks for reading it :D I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did in writing it. (Researching was fun.)


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